


Impromptu Untitled Angel/Wes h/c

by flaming_muse



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: April Showers Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-18
Updated: 2005-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel.  Wesley.  Hurt.  Comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impromptu Untitled Angel/Wes h/c

**Author's Note:**

> set in the summer after AtS s1
> 
> written for TheBratQueen over e-mail
> 
> Originally posted in my LJ on July 18, 2005.

The vampire snarled and kicked out at Angel as he grabbed its collar, but Angel deftly dodged backwards and sent it careening into the dumpster. The knife it carried clattered across the pavement, out of reach. As it struggled to its feet, Angel slapped one hand on its chest and pulled a shiny silver amulet out of its coat pocket.

"Is this it, Wes?" he called over his shoulder.

"Yes - oof!" Wesley called back from the other end of the alley. There was the sound of garbage cans rolling, but Angel had to keep his attention on the demon in front of him.

"The demon lord Shahazar will flay you alive for touching his sacred medal," the vampire told him.

"That's great," Angel said, tucking the amulet away and then flicking his wrist to make one of his stakes snap into his grasp, "but I'm not alive." He plunged the stake into the vampire's chest. "And neither are you." The vampire exploded into a cloud of dust.

Angel stepped back and glanced down the now-empty alley. There were no more vampires left from the gang they had chased, but Wesley wasn't there, either. Angel shrugged. Maybe he had gone to call Cordelia to let her know that they had found the amulet from her vision.

Then the scent of blood reached his nostrils. Fresh. Human. Wesley's.

Angel ran down the alley to find Wesley sprawled amongst the tipped-over trash cans, his face nearly as pale as the bandage he was still wearing from the explosion that destroyed Angel's office. One hand was clasped to the side of his throat, while the other loosely  
held a sharpened stake.

"I staked him," Wesley said as he blinked up at Angel like his eyes wouldn't focus behind his glasses. "But I seem to have lost my balance." As he extended his hand toward Angel for help getting up, Angel could clearly see why Wesley looked so pale and where the scent of blood was coming from. The vampire bite on his neck was still oozing, the drops of blood bright red against his pale skin.

"You're hurt," Angel said stupidly, crouching down beside him.

"Am I?" Wesley looked at the blood smeared on his own fingers. "Oh. I am."

Angel patted his pockets for something to stop the bleeding. He didn't like the vagueness in Wesley's voice at all. "Do you think you can get to the car, or should I bring the first aid kit here?"

"I'm fine," Wesley assured him, but even with Angel's help he listed to the side as he sat up.

"Wait here. I'll be right back," Angel said, scooting Wesley back toward the wall so that he wouldn't topple over again.

"Honestly, Angel, I - "

"Wait here."

Vampire speed was useful for more than just fighting and catching Cordelia during a vision; it was also extremely handy for getting back to a wounded friend with more determination than sense before he could take it upon himself to try to get up. Returning with the car's first aid kit, Angel was pleased to find Wesley in the same spot as he had left him, although his hands were braced on the ground as though he were thinking about pushing himself upwards.

"How are you feeling?" Angel asked as he unwrapped a piece of gauze from its sterile envelope and pressed it to the wound. Wesley winced at the touch, and Angel's jaw clenched. He tried to keep focused. "Light-headed? Sick to your stomach?"

"No, I - " Wesley swallowed as Angel fixed him with a stern glare, and he reconsidered his answer. "Yes."

"Blood loss'll do that to you." Angel could feel Wesley's pulse steady beneath his fingers as he held the bandage against Wesley's throat. It was a comforting rhythm in counterpoint to the sticky blood oozing through the gauze.

Wesley looked down. "I shouldn't have let him slip past my defenses."

"You still staked him," Angel said.

"You got the amulet?" Wesley asked more brightly, an obvious cue to change the topic of conversation. It might have been more convincing if his head didn't wobble as it he said it.

Angel nodded, replacing the first piece of gauze with a fresh one.

"Good," Wesley said. "We can return it to the priestesses tonight, and then I can start researching that Morowein solstice ritual before I turn in. I think if I look in Agliar's Lesser Rites - "

"No."

"I know the translations are a bit off, but - "

Pleased with how the bleeding was slowing, Angel reached for the tape to hold the bandage in place. "No. You're not doing any more work tonight. We can give them their amulet tomorrow."

"But, Angel, it's their most sacred object."

"It's been missing for a thousand years. One more night won't kill them."

Wesley frowned. "But - "

"No."

"But - "

"I said no, Wes," Angel said, grimly taping the bandage over the wound. "You're hurt, and I'm taking you home."

There was a flash of something mutinous in Wesley's disturbingly vague blue eyes before he nodded, his shoulders slumping. "You'll have plenty of time to return the amulet after you've dropped me off," he said with a sigh.

"I'm not just dropping you off," Angel said, snapping the lid back on the first aid kit and sitting back on his heels. "You've been bitten by a vampire and probably have a bump on your head from when you were tossed around, too."

The immediate look of guilt on Wesley's face confirmed that hunch. "It's nothing. You don't have to go to any trouble."

"It's no trouble." Angel slipped his arm around Wesley's back, carefully helping him to his feet. Although Wesley looked like a stiff breeze would knock him over, usually he was surprisingly tough, which made the way he needed to cling to Angel's shoulders to stay upright all the more distressing. "I want to make sure you're okay."

"You don't have to do anything special for me," Wesley protested.

Angel tucked the first aid kit under his elbow and began walking Wesley toward the car. "Sure I do."

"No, you don't. You have a job to do," Wesley said more firmly, but since he was having trouble getting his feet in the right order Angel had no problem ignoring him.

"It'll keep. You won't." Angel maneuvered him to the car and leaned him against the side so that he could open the passenger side door. "Is there any point in me asking if you should go to the hospital for that, or are you just going to say no?"

Wesley shook his head immediately and then winced at the movement. "No. I've had enough of hospitals, thank you."

An image of Wesley lying so damn still in the hospital bed flashed into Angel's mind. "Me, too," he said, patting Wesley's shoulder. "Come on." He slipped his arm around Wesley's waist and helped him into the car, shutting the door after he was in. He walked around the car and got into the other side and then watched Wesley fumble with the seatbelt for a few moments before reaching across and fastening it for him.

"Thank you," Wesley said quietly, closing his eyes. He didn't look grateful, though; he looked unhappy.

"Don't thank me. That's what friends are for." The song began to run through Angel's mind as he started up the car, and he wondered idly what had happened to Dionne Warwick after the whole Psychic Friends thing.

"I... Thank you," Wesley said again. He gingerly leaned his head back against the headrest, his eyes still closed.

Something about Wesley's posture bothered Angel, and he frowned as he pulled the car out onto the street. "It's really not a problem, Wes. You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would," Wesley replied, and then he drew in a hissing breath as the car went over a pot-hole and his head bounced on the seat.

"Sorry."

Wincing, Wesley opened his eyes and carefully touched the back of his head.

"You okay over there?" Angel asked, glancing over.

"I'm considering whether it would be more efficient to start the day swathed in bandages." Wesley sounded almost bitter, and Angel didn't like it one bit.

"That'd kind of make it hard to move around, wouldn't it?" Angel said.

Wesley just fiddled with the edge of his jacket and didn't reply.

"I don't like to see you in bandages," Angel said quietly after a moment. "I mean, I don't want you bleeding all over the place, but I don't want you to be bleeding at all."

"It's not something I seek out on purpose." Wesley's voice was crisp.

"No, I know that," Angel assured him. "I'm just saying I don't like the whole bandage idea. You know, if I get a vote."

"Of course you get a vote," Wesley said.

Angel glanced over at him. "What do you mean 'of course'?"

Angel could see Wesley's flush clearly, despite the irregular light from the streetlights they were passing. "Well... that is... you're my employer. It's only expected that you might have some interest in my physical state and how I present myself."

"I was speaking as your friend, not as your boss," Angel said with a frown. "And I like you better without bandages."

"Oh. Well." The tension in Wesley's shoulders lessened just a bit, and his mouth turned up into something of a smile. Then the car went over a pot hole, which Angel hadn't seen because he'd been looking at Wesley, and the smile turned into a grimace.

"Sorry," Angel said, cringing and turning his attention back to the road.

"Quite all right," Wesley replied, but his voice sounded weak to Angel's ears.

Angel sped up. "We're nearly there."

Raising his hand to touch the bandage on his throat, Wesley said, "Not moving would be good."

"Leave that alone," Angel told him.

"I was just seeing if it's still bleeding."

"It is," Angel said flatly.

"How do you - Oh." Wesley cleared his throat. "I'm sorry if it's bothering you."

Bothering wasn't quite the word Angel would have used; he didn't *like* to smell Wesley's blood, but on the other hand it smelled really good. Maybe too good. He didn't want to think about it. "It's okay. Just leave it alone."

"Sorry." Sounding chastened, Wesley dropped his hand and fell silent.

Angel concentrated on driving, and within a few minutes they were pulling into a parking space outside of Wesley's apartment building.

Before Angel could turn off the car, Wesley was unfastening his seatbelt and opening his door. "Do you have your key, or should I leave the door unlocked?"

"What?" Angel asked.

Wesley gingerly got out of the car. "Do you need me to leave the door unlocked so that you can get in when you return? Or did you want to stay with Cordelia tonight?"

Angel shut off the engine. "I'm coming in with you, remember?" He peered at Wesley, who was steadying himself with one hand on the car door. "Did you hit your head harder than I thought?"

"No, I just meant..." Wesley turned slowly as Angel got out of the car and walked around it. "Never mind."

"Come on," Angel said more gently, and he put his arm around Wesley's waist.

By the time they got into the apartment, Wesley was even paler, and he didn't make a single protest as Angel sat him on the couch.

"Thank you," Wesley said quietly, his head back on the cushion and his eyes closed.

"You don't have to keep thanking me," Angel said. He crouched down in front of him, trying to figure out if he needed more first aid.

Wesley's mouth twitched, but it wasn't clear whether it was trying for a smile or a frown. "It seems only polite."

"Since when are you polite with me?"

The twitch turned into a definite frown. "I'm always polite to you," Wesley said.

"Not when you're calling me an idiot," Angel pointed out.

"I don't - "

"Yes, you do," Angel said.

"All right," Wesley replied. "Perhaps once or twice. But I do it *politely*."

"I thought that was just you being English," Angel said. "Look, I'm not trying to argue. I'm just trying to take care of you."

"I shouldn't need to be taken care of," Wesley said softly.

Angel put his hand on Wesley's knee. "I don't mind. You're important," he said. "You get hurt, I'm going to take care of you."

Wesley's eyes flew open, and they were dark with unhappiness. "You have much better things to do with your time," he said.

"Wesley, nothing is more important than you and Cordy." Angel heard his own words and grimaced. "Well, there's saving the world, but, you know, besides that."

"Angel..." Wesley seemed at a loss for words, just staring at him.

"You knew that, right? I mean, you have to know that, after the whole building blowing up thing. Right?"

"Well, I..."

Angel leaned in closer, his palm sliding up Wesley's leg. He could feel the heat from Wesley's body soaking into him, feel the hidden strength of his lean frame beneath the barrier of his clothes. "You have to know," he said almost desperately.

"I..." Wesley looked lost, his eyes searching Angel's like he was trying to solve some impossible puzzle with an unattainable prize.

The whiteness of the bandages on Wesley's cheek and throat were marring the face Angel has grown to know so well, and suddenly the heat he was feeling from Wesley's body reminded him how close he had come - twice now, in far too few days - to being as cold as Angel, himself, was. That same frisson of terror he had felt at the thought that he could lose both Wesley and Cordelia flashed through him, and he found himself leaning in even closer.

Wesley's lips parted, his eyes widening, as Angel cupped his jaw, looking straight into those impossibly blue eyes.

"Have I told you how afraid I was of losing you?" Angel asked quietly. "When I saw you there on the stairs and I thought you were dead? When you were lying in the hospital? Just now, when I saw you'd been bitten?"

"I thought..." Wesley cleared his throat. "I assumed you were probably annoyed that I wasn't able to take care of myself."

"You know, for a smart guy sometimes you're really dumb," Angel said with a smile that quavered because the thought that after all that they'd been through Wesley still didn't get that he was a part of Angel's heart - part of what made the world worth saving for him, because he had people he cared about - was profoundly distressing. He was doing everything he could to show him - listening to him talk about demons and spells and ancient languages and asking questions just so that Wesley could grow that smile of pride as he explained the answer, drinking the tea Wesley made so precisely every night, despite the fact that it tasted far too much like dried leaves to Angel's tongue, and even making breakfast for him every couple of days, even on days that they weren't up all night solving a case - and if he still didn't get it Angel didn't know what else to do.

Instead of smiling and understanding, Wesley still looked unhappy - and pale, and tired - but mostly unhappy and ashamed.

Since all of the sensible options were gone, Angel grabbed for something else instead and moved his hand to cup Wesley's unhurt cheek. Then he leaned in further, heard Wesley's sharp, indrawn breath, and kissed him.

Wesley didn't move, but his lips were warm and surprisingly soft beneath Angel's, too inviting to be quickly released. He was still long enough that Angel was about to pull back and try to find some way to apologize - and maybe pass it off as a hallucination from Wesley's blood loss - when Wesley's hand came up to fist in Angel's shirt, pulling him up onto the couch next to him.

The kissing was good. Really good. Eager but gentle, with hands skimming lightly over clothes and soft sounds of pleasure from them both. Angel could hear Wesley's heart pounding, could feel his skin heating, and kissed him harder, pressing him back into the cushions.

Wesley moaned, his hand clenching on Angel's shoulder, and Angel almost did it again until he realized that it had actually been a noise of pain.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, hastily pulling back.

Wesley's face was a bit pinched, but he kept hold of Angel's shirt, not letting him go too far. "I'm not," he said softly.

"Do you get it now?" Angel asked, caught by Wesley's eyes even more than his grip. "How important you are to me?"

"I might be beginning to understand," Wesley said with a hint of a smile. Then he frowned a bit. "Unless you've also kissed Cordelia."

Angel couldn't help but make a face. "Uh, no. Well, she kissed me once, but then she kissed you, too, and it was because of the visions, and... why are we talking about her?"

Wesley traced his fingers down Angel's cheek and smiled this brilliant, happy smile. "I don't know."

Angel couldn't help it; he leaned in and kissed him again, though he was careful to make it as soft as he possibly could. Wesley apparently wasn't so concerned, since he pulled Angel in closer and kissed him with enthusiasm and a surprising lack of awkwardness. Also, a surprising amount of skill. All of those years of speaking strange languages had obviously made his mouth quite mobile.

It took a moment for Angel to remember why he couldn't pin Wesley to the cushions and start working on getting at that lovely warm skin of his, but he did. He pulled back with reluctance.

There was a hint of hurt growing on Wesley's face, and Angel kissed him again quickly before it could get even larger.

"We've got to get you patched up," he explained. "You need to drink something, and I want to look at that bite again."

Wesley grimaced and touched the bandage on his throat. "Yes, I suppose that's wise." He released Angel and settled his hands in his lap, the happiness in his expression dimming.

"But after," Angel told him, "I'm going to want to kiss you again. Is that a problem?"

Wesley blinked and then smiled his huge smile again. "No, not at all."

"Okay, then." Angel felt a huge weight lift off of his chest. Maybe he'd done something right this time.

Since he didn't trust himself not to get distracted if he kissed Wesley again, even just briefly, Angel got to his feet and offered his hand to help Wesley up.

Wesley looked at it for a second and then took it, carefully rising.

Angel didn't let go of him until they were in the bathroom, and then when they were done taking care of Wesley's wounds he didn't let go of him again for a long time afterwards.


End file.
